


reckoning

by minachandler



Series: 3 + 1 fics [7]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 3+1 fic, Angst, Episode: s06e23 Life Sentence, F/F, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 05:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15163478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minachandler/pseuds/minachandler
Summary: Black Siren has a lot to reckon with. Or, the three women with whom earth-2 Laurel knows she needs to square things, and the one woman who takes her by surprise.





	reckoning

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic has been a while in the making. I really love writing Black Siren, so I hope you all enjoy :) Thank you to Jazz for the initial meta that sparked this and for reading it through for me, and to Mo for giving me ideas for the Laulicity portion, as well as Sophia for letting me hash this out with them for a while when I was stuck.

_i. dinah_

It's sort of fitting, in a way, for the Black Canary to be Black Siren’s first stop. Briefly Laurel wonders what her archenemy will do to her when she sees her on her doorstep. It makes her hesitate as she raises her fist to knock on the door.

But the hesitation passes fairly quickly - Laurel raps twice on the door and hears rustling from inside and the faint click of a gun. Then there's a sigh, maybe of exasperation or disbelief, yet nevertheless after a second the door opens.

“What do you want?” Dinah says roughly, and in all fairness Laurel can't exactly blame her. In fact, Laurel's surprised that Dinah has lowered her gun somewhat. To her credit, Dinah's still in a fighting stance, feet apart, wary and ready for a fight.

Laurel holds her hands up quickly. “I'm not here to fight, Dinah. I just want to talk.”

To her surprise, and Dinah's too, by the looks of it, Dinah softens a little at that, and it's like they've both realised that this is the first time Laurel has addressed her by her actual name.

“Okay.” Dinah holsters her gun, puts her hands on her hips, waiting expectantly.

Laurel takes a deep breath. “Look, I just wanted to say - thank you. For coming to rescue Quentin - I mean, my father -”

“He wasn't your father,” Dinah interrupts.

Laurel nods. “I know that. But I didn’t know my own father for very long.” Dinah raises her eyebrows, so Laurel supplies, “He died when I was only just a teenager.”

“I didn’t know that,” she says quietly.

“How could you? All you really know about me is how loud I can scream.” Closing her eyes and shaking her head, Dinah looks like she’s trying to suppress something that’s approaching a smile. “And despite what my father might have said… I don’t think having daddy issues excuses a single thing I’ve done.”

“You’re right,” Dinah says. “For once. And I know he wasn’t really your father -”

“I grew to see him that way, though,” Laurel interrupts. “Over time.”

Silence. Then: “I'm sorry for your loss,” Dinah says unexpectedly. “And I'm sorry we couldn't save him in time. Even after...”

“Even after you teamed up with your nemesis to get him to the hospital?” Laurel says with a wry smile, but it's devoid of warmth, more a grimace than anything else. “I appreciate that. Especially after what I've done. Everything I've done. And I know you said we're past sorry for Sobel, but I am. Truly.”

“If you're expecting an apology from me -”

“I'm not -”

“- you'd be right to,” Dinah finishes quietly. “There's blood on my hands, too. A lot of it. With Vince it was even worse. He wasn't a saint. Neither are you. Neither am I. None of us are - _were_ \- innocent in this. I see that now.”

Laurel nods. “True.”

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t blame you still.”

“I don’t think I’d respect you if you didn’t,” Laurel says quietly.

Dinah’s lips quirk into something that looks strangely like a smile. “I didn’t realise you respected me at all.”

Laurel crosses her arms. “Yeah, well, we’ve had our fair share of misunderstandings. But you’re right. It was my fault. My choices. The thing is, unlike you - the blood on my hands isn't something I can wash away. Ever.”

Dinah raises her eyebrows. “I hate to break it to you, sweetie, but this isn't a confessional. And anyway, I'm Jewish.”

Miraculously they manage to share a smile at that. Then Laurel says, “I figured as much.” Dinah looks taken aback, and Laurel gestures to the doorpost. “That's a... mezuzah, right?”

“How did you -”

“My best friend growing up was Jewish,” Laurel says. “I got to know some of the customs. They don't vary that much, earth to earth. Which… brings me to why I'm here, actually. I thought I should let you know in person. I'm going back to my earth. Tomorrow. I'll be handing myself in when I get home.”

And as expected, her sudden admission throws Dinah off. “Why?” she asks eventually.

“In all honesty - there's not much left for me here. And over there… at least I can answer for what I've done.”

Dinah nods. “Okay. Good. For the record, Laurel - I'm not sure if you came here so you could hear me say I feel sorry for you -”

“ _I_ don't even feel sorry for me,” Laurel admits in a hollow voice. “That's not what this is about. I just felt like I should - square things, before I go.”

There's no way this will end with Laurel not getting the last word, so with that she turns on her heel and leaves. Half of her expects to feel the barrel of the gun Laurel knows Dinah is still holding at the base of her spine. But she also knows deep down that she deserves that bullet.

So she holds her breath. Waits. Ready to accept her punishment.

Yet barely ten seconds pass before she hears the dreaded click - only it's not the safety of a .38. No bang. No pain. No blood.

Just the door of her apartment shutting.

(Laurel's not sure whether the sigh she lets out is relief or disappointment.)

_ii. felicity_

Ollie’s place is next. Laurel’s not quite sure why she still thinks of it as his place when he’s not exactly living there anymore, but as she rings the doorbell, she still expects to see the face of a man she once loved greeting her, rather than the woman she’s actually seeking.

It turns out that the person who answers the door is neither person she is expecting and instead William Clayton. Laurel’s never spoken with the boy or even met him - she’s surprised when he seems to recognise her nevertheless.

“You’re my dad’s friend, right? Laurel?”

“Uh,” Laurel mumbles, and she’s uncomfortable because if he knew who she really was ( _is?_ ), she’s sure he would be flinching at the sight of her at the very least. “I mean - I guess you could say that.”

William looks like he’s about to say something else, but before he can, the sound of Felicity’s voice sounds in the hallway. “William, what have I said about opening the door to -” And then Felicity catches sight of Laurel and her eyes turn stony behind her glasses. “Oh.”

“Can I talk to you?” Laurel asks, folding her arms. “It’ll just take a minute.”

“William, go inside,” Felicity says, and she surprises Laurel in how calm and steady she seems. “We don’t have long, okay, so just pack your suitcase and then we can get going.”

Nodding, William turns around and does as he’s told, and it’s only once he’s out of earshot that Felicity speaks.

“I had a feeling you were a terrible person right from the off, but honestly, this, right here? It’s a whole new low.”

“Felicity -”

“How can you even show your face right now? In front of him, no less?”

“I’m sorry,” Laurel says, and she really does mean it even if the words sound hollow on her lips. “For all of it.”

“Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t cut it,” Felicity hisses back. “So what do you want? ‘Cause I don’t need a stranger with my dead best friend’s face waltzing into my home with some half-assed apology.”

That catches her off-guard. “She was your best friend,” Laurel says softly.

“Yeah, she was.” Felicity’s voice is still grating. “She was the bravest and kindest person I knew. By a long shot. And she would be turning in her grave if she knew about even a fraction of the awful things you’ve done.”

“When I got into bed with Ricardo -”

Felicity crosses her arms. “Oh, so you two were on first name terms, huh?”

But Laurel ignores this. “I thought he was like the others. The other people I followed needlessly into battles that weren’t mine - Hunter Zolomon, Adrian Chase, Cayden James.” The names are a dull litany on her tongue, one murderer after another. (She supposes it takes one to know one.) “But Diaz was different. And I realised that only after I saw what he was capable of.”

“Why, because he burned a man alive?” Felicity says. “Yeah, Quentin mentioned you had a change of heart to Oliver. You know. Before he -” She breaks off for a second, at last seeming to lose the edge of her anger and losing herself in her grief as she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. Then she continues, “So you finally found your line, huh? It’s weird. You’d think that abducting a _child_ -”

“I never would have hurt the kid,” Laurel says quickly.

“- or being an accomplice in holding him hostage would be the moment you decided to grow a conscience.”

Laurel closes her eyes. “Look, you can punish me all you like, Felicity. I deserve it. And I know I can’t make any of it right. In fact, I'm not entirely sure why I didn't have cops coming at me once the funeral was over. Or even before that.”

And it’s like all the fight leaves Felicity’s shoulders with a sudden huff of breath. “Actually, Oliver’s agreement with Agent Watson included you,” Felicity says reluctantly. “Not because he thinks much of you - more because he’d much rather our Laurel’s name isn’t tainted by a poor imitation of her.”

“I thought you’d say that,” Laurel says slowly. “But you’re right. I’m not her. I never will be. And I just - need to know something. Before I -”

“Before you what?” Felicity says sharply, but Laurel closes her eyes for a second to steady herself.

“When… when I showed up, at the bunker, you never really believed I was your Laurel, right?”

“Not even really for a second,” Felicity replies. “You gave yourself away pretty quickly.”

“How?”

“The way you were playing Laurel - my Laurel - was how you imagined her to be. Oliver was fooled because he saw the person he idealised her to be - someone he could save, which had never been who she was.”

Laurel rolls her eyes. “Your Laurel was -”

“- someone you could never measure up to,” Felicity interrupts. “She was everything you're not and that's why even though you never met her you hate her with everything in you. But the real truth is that my best friend cared so much, and that was her strength - the strength that you mistook for weakness when you tried to be her. _That's_ how I figured it out.”

Sighing, Laurel tries to take this in, not sure what to make of it.

“For what it's worth… thank you for protecting me. From Dinah, I mean.”

“Part of me wishes I hadn't.” The admission from Felicity should sting more, but truthfully Laurel is just glad Felicity is being honest.

“If it makes you feel any better, in a way I wish you hadn't too.” And now Felicity does look genuinely taken aback for a split second, so Laurel takes the opportunity to place her hand lightly on Felicity's shoulder. She expects Felicity to flinch at her touch, but all Laurel can see in her eyes is pain and maybe something else she’s not so sure about. “Tell your husband,” Laurel says softly, “he got his wish after all. You guys will never hear from me again. I can promise you that much.”

_iii. sara_

Laurel finds Sara where she expects to find her - at Quentin’s grave, of course. The flowers in her hand are held so loosely that after a second they fall, landing clumsily in front of the gravestone, a trite show of grief or respect or whatever that look as insignificant and unimportant as Laurel herself feels. It’s dark now, but Laurel feels like Sara has been here a while now. When she approaches Sara, she doesn’t say anything, but that doesn’t exactly faze this earth’s Sara with her killer instincts and quick reflexes.

Sara Lance: once an assassin, always an assassin. On this earth, anyway.

“What are you doing here?” Sara says eventually, her eyes still fixed on the gravestone before her.

“Not sure,” Laurel admits. “I - I’m sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye to him. It seems unfair -”

“Life’s not fair,” Sara says in a hollow voice. “I learned that a long time ago the hard way. And you didn’t answer my question.”

Laurel finds herself shifting from foot to foot, her gaze firmly on the ground beneath her. “Uh, on my earth, we have this - tradition, sort of, on this night, June 21st, every year.”

“Okay.” Sara nods, stands up straight, finally looks her not-sister in the eye.

“It’s called Reckoning Night. It’s when you go to someone you love, or someone you hate. Someone you have to settle scores with. And originally it was meant to be for people about to serve in the army during wartime… but it became a way for anyone just to get closure before they - went somewhere they didn’t necessarily think they would come back from.”

At this, Sara raises her eyebrows. “So which am I? Someone you love or someone you hate?”

Slowly Laurel shakes her head. “I don’t know if it’s either. Or both.”

“Tell me… what is your sister like?” she asks.

She has no idea why, but Laurel finds herself smiling a little now. “She… is a do-gooder. Kind of like your Laurel. Except she’s not a lawyer. She’s an ER doctor.”

“So she never went on the Gambit with your Ollie?” Sara asks.

“No, she was always too head over heels in love with Felicity to even look at my Ollie.” This is said more fondly than anticipated, and Laurel barely realises the tear that trickles from the corner of her eye. Sara doesn’t really notice, though - her jaw has suddenly slackened.

“As in - Felicity Smoak?”

“Well, she goes by Felicity Kuttler on my earth,” Laurel says. “But yeah. Same face. The first time Sara - my Sara - kissed her, she wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks.”

The ghost of a smile is on Sara's face now but much like a ghost it disappears after a moment. “Is she happy?”

“I wish I knew. Even when I was on my earth, I hadn't seen her in a long time. Not since I’d moved to Central City.” Sara nods, looks away. Then Laurel adds, “I hope so, though. She deserves as much.” Sara moves away, now, taking this as her cue to leave, but before she does she turns back for a second.

“Laurel?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Sara asks. “Coming here?”

Laurel shrugs. “Not really. I… expected you to be angrier, to be honest. At me.”

“You know, the biggest lesson my sister taught me… is that no one is too far gone. No one is irredeemable. Whatever decisions you've made.”

“So you don't blame me?” Laurel says, unable to keep the incredulity out of her voice.

“My dad made a choice to take that bullet for you,” Sara says. “Right or wrong, he made it, and I can't pin that on you. Or maybe I don't want to, because that would mean blaming someone who looks like the person I failed the most in life, and whatever awful things either of us have done, I don't think I can do that.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better? I clearly failed her too.”

Reaching up, Sara lifts her hand to Laurel's cheek and pats it gently. Laurel's crying now, really crying, and the tears fall on Sara's palm as she pulls away.

“So long, Laurel,” Sara says softly.

Laurel doesn't say anything, just watches Sara leave. Within seconds she's disappeared into the darkness of the night, and Laurel's alone all over again, and it’s only then that she replies, “See you on the other side, sis.

_iv. nyssa_

Sara’s supposed to be the last person Laurel sees. Laurel’s not sure why, exactly - maybe because unlike Dinah and Felicity, Sara hasn’t seen for herself what Laurel’s done as Black Siren. Unlike Dinah, who admired a woman she’d never met - at least enough to take on the Black Canary mantle - and thus rightfully scorned Black Siren from the very beginning, and unlike Felicity who saw past the sheer mask of vulnerability that Laurel thought she could hide behind when impersonating her doppelganger - Sara hasn’t witnessed Laurel’s ugly side.

Hopefully she never will. She probably still believes in Laurel because she can’t bear to do otherwise.

Maybe it’s because she’s so consumed with these thoughts that she doesn’t notice the sudden presence behind her and rather uncharacteristically jumps in fright when she realises she’s face-to-face with -

“Amina?”

Immediately the woman before her takes a step back, shakes her head. “No, my name is Nyssa. Who is -”

“No one,” Laurel cuts across her quickly. “No one - just, I thought you were someone else.”

“I am sorry if I startled you,” Nyssa says. “Or if I am interrupting. I only wanted to - pay my respects.” Laurel doesn’t say anything, just looks up and meets Nyssa’s eyes. She finds herself drowning in their rich, dark brown, trying but not quite managing to understand what feels so achingly familiar about them, and it takes her a second to snap out of it. Only then Nyssa’s gaze feels piercing, and Laurel’s forced to tear her eyes away.

It’s easier to speak now. “I remember seeing you on Lian Yu,” Laurel says. “I would say I can’t believe I picked my side in that battle, but I would be lying. It's not like I've ever been on the side of the angels, to be honest.” Nyssa doesn’t say anything to that, so then Laurel says tentatively, “You knew my father… Quentin... through Sara, right? Because you two were together?”

Nyssa just sighs, though. “Part of me used to wish that it was as simple as that,” she replies after a second. “But it wasn't.”

“Do you mean because of your history with Sara… or because you loved Laurel too?” Laurel says quietly, still not quite managing to meet her eyes but nevertheless feeling the sharpness of Nyssa's gaze so painfully she may as well have put a sword through Laurel's heart (it would hurt less, Laurel thinks, even though she refuses to entertain the possibility of _why_ ). “Come on. I'm used to people who take one look at me and it's like they've seen a ghost. But with you it's different.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Laurel breathes, finally mustering up the courage to look her in the eyes, “when you look at me, you… you see…”

Yet words utterly fail her: Laurel opens her mouth several times but whatever she was going to say next dies at her lips.

“I see a ghost that I loved,” Nyssa says unexpectedly. “You're right. But I also see the ghost of someone I couldn’t save. And now I am looking at her father's grave and I… I feel like I need to make a choice.”

Laurel folds her arms, straightens to her full height. “What do you mean?”

And now Nyssa takes a steadying breath. “After you - she - died, Mr Lance contacted me. He asked for me to bring his daughter back with my late father's Lazarus Pit. And I… felt responsible, somehow, because I was the one to destroy that very Pit after Laurel brought back Sara.”

“Chase mentioned something about that,” Laurel says slowly. “But if it helps, it's not like you would be able to bring her back fully. At least, not from what I hear about how Sara came back.”

“I felt the same,” Nyssa confesses. “And I remember protesting most strenuously when my Laurel brought Sara back the way she did. I told her she was being selfish, driven by grief more than anything else. And when I destroyed the Lazarus Pit in Nanda Parbat, I felt like my actions were driven by justice for the first time in months. But then Laurel had Sara’s soul restored. She found a way. She _always_ found a way. And now I've discovered another Pit… I wonder if perhaps every person should be afforded one selfish choice - at whatever cost, if it brings a little more light into the world once more.”

It takes a moment for Laurel to get what Nyssa means by that. Then there's silence. “You want to bring her back?” she says at last.

“My whole life, in times of need, I have reached out to strangers,” Nyssa says. “Never before did a stranger reach back - until Laurel. And she showed me kindness, friendship and, yes, love. She came to be… more important to me than I could have ever anticipated. So when I lost her I knew that I would have done anything to bring her back. I even swore as much to Mr Lance. But I couldn't.”

“But now you can.”

“Now I can,” Nyssa repeats, nodding.

Laurel closes her eyes, letting her arms fall to her sides. “You seem very sure.”

“Seeing you has helped,” Nyssa admits. Then she hesitates, pausing for a second and then saying softly, “You look just like her.”

It probably would irritate her if anyone else said that, but Laurel doesn't really mind. If anything it gives her the push to say what's been on her mind since she first caught sight of Nyssa on Lian Yu. “Funny. You kinda look like someone I used to know too.”

“Is that why you have been unable to look me in the eye for very long?” And again, if Nyssa's features didn't resemble someone else's the more Laurel did look at her, maybe Laurel would take this as Nyssa taunting or mocking her. But the sincerity in Nyssa's eyes and the genuine concern in her voice tells her otherwise.

Still, Laurel doesn't answer her question. She stays silent.

“You called me Amina,” Nyssa says slowly. “That was my mother’s name.”

Silence. Then, slowly, Laurel reaches out, until her hand is finally settling on Nyssa's cheek. Nyssa closes her eyes at her touch, and Laurel feels the gentle drip of tears on her fingers.

“Oh my God. You're - you're her,” Laurel whispers.

And yet Nyssa shakes her head. “I am… no more your Amina than you are my Laurel.”

Laurel’s hand falls to her side. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, then.”

“May I ask - who is she? On your earth, I mean.”

“She's not like you. She's not an assassin. Although she did try and teach me archery once. It didn't go too well.” Laurel almost laughs, but it's too much, remembering her best friend and first love and seeing this woman with the same catlike eyes, the same cheekbones that could cut glass, even the same tendency to bite her lip when she's nervous. “You don’t seem that surprised at the possibility.”

“I live in a world where metahumans exist, where I personally have the means to restore the dead back to life, where there are other worlds in which the woman I loved most on this earth is alive. I have long since dismissed the idea of coincidence.”

At this Laurel impulsively makes to turn away, but before she can, Nyssa has a hold of her hand. She doesn't even tug on it very much, and her fingers scarcely brush against the inside of Laurel's wrist.

“Why don't you go home to her?” Nyssa asks.

“I don't know where she is,” Laurel says helplessly. “On my earth, she left a long time ago. Very suddenly. Never came back. But even if I did - she wouldn't want anything to do with me. Not if she saw who I am. Who I've become. _What_ I've become. And that's fine. I'm gonna pay my penance - one way or another.”

Nyssa nods. “Okay.”

Laurel waits, because that can't be all she has to say, but seconds tick by and nothing. Eventually she says, “That's it? No ‘you're not past redemption’? No ‘you can be like my Laurel’? Or even straight up ‘you’re a monster’?”

“I suspect that is what the others said during your farewell tour. But if there is one thing I have learned from my Laurel Lance, it is that - she is strong in her convictions. Whatever those may be.”

And now Nyssa is the one turn on her heel, after one last long look at Laurel, and begin to walk away. But once she has taken a few steps, Laurel’s feet move seemingly of their own volition, grabbing her wrist, the other hand going up to cup her cheek, and she kisses Nyssa. The suddenness of the movement catches Nyssa off-guard, but almost instantly Nyssa relaxes in Laurel’s embrace, kisses her back, so hard and for so long that they’re both gasping for air when they pull apart.

Laurel leans her forehead against Nyssa’s, waits for her breath to come back, and when it does, she says, “When you bring her back… tell her I’m sorry.”

And finally this time, after Nyssa nods silently, she does walk away, just as Laurel’s eyes brim with unexpected emotion and she also walks away in the opposite direction.

It’s still Reckoning Night, but maybe now it’s time for Black Siren to go home.

**Author's Note:**

> That's it! This one was tough for me to write and I'm not sure what I think of the end result in all honesty. I would therefore as always love to hear your thoughts on the fic, so please take a moment to leave a comment in that box below. Also, if you're wondering, Reckoning Night is a tradition I kinda nicked and modified for this fic from the TV show Killjoys. Lastly, I do want to write a followup to this where Nyssa brings earth-1 Laurel back, so I guess - watch this space :)


End file.
